


Of Achilles And Ariadne's Thread

by zerogravityzerochill



Series: follow the thread, back to you [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I was really mean in the last part so have this, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Protective Toby Smith | Tubbo, They get so many hugs, Toby Smith | Tubbo Needs a Hug, TommyInnit Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Tubbo just wants his best friend back man, and they get a hug, c!Dream is a bitch but what else is new
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:36:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28794039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zerogravityzerochill/pseuds/zerogravityzerochill
Summary: Tubbo does not have skin of metal, or godly skill, or a name that would make titans tremble. He is not a general or conqueror or a god or a mastermind. He is not much of anything, really.But what he does have is a cold, cold fire that burns steely and strong in his bones, a wicked cleverness about him, and a thread, a lead, a beacon that pulls him inevitably towards his other half, the one that has been stolen from him too many times.And by the gods, he will chase that thread, will pursue it as relentlessly as a hound closes in on its quarry, he will run and run until his legs give out and even then, he will drag himself until he reaches the end.He will find Tommy. He will drag him from whatever hell Dream's thrown him into, and they will walk out of the labyrinth and into the dawn, blinding and triumphant. Theywill. Tubbo swore it, and he won't go back on his word. Not again.Just hold on, Tommy. I'm coming.
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Series: follow the thread, back to you [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2105799
Comments: 20
Kudos: 429
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	Of Achilles And Ariadne's Thread

**Author's Note:**

> I was not planning on a continuation for this series but since y'all went absolutely buckwild about that first part and were so supportive I decided to fuck around and find out.
> 
> You should probably go read Part 1 of this: "Of Theseus, Patroclus, Mazes, and Sacrifices" or else you're gonna be kind of lost.
> 
> Come visit me at @zero-gravity-zero-chill on Tumblr!
> 
> Comments, keysmashes, kudos, and screaming are all welcome <3!

It has been two weeks, three days, and seven hours since the razing of L'Manburg.

It has been two weeks, three days, and seven hours since Tommy surrendered himself to Dream for Tubbo's life - since Tubbo failed to protect his best friend in even the most basic way.

Tommy has been in Dream's grasp for two weeks, three days, and seven hours _far too long_.

( _Tubbo knows, deep in his chest, he will never forgive himself for this, no matter how much it might have been Tommy's choice. He saw the way his best friend trembled as he made the bargain, the fear clear in his eyes, heard how his voice shook and broke as he pleaded with Dream- he saw, and he won't forget. It still haunts his nightmares._ )

He can't help the guilt that rushes in as he continues working on Snowchester, even if he knows it is the only logical course of action. Tubbo's not stupid, he knows he can't just charge after Dream and demand Tommy back. He needs to prepare, he needs supplies, he and Tommy will need a safe place to lie low, he needs people on his side- he needs- he needs-

Gods, he needs _so much._

He sits back, wipes his brow, and sighs as he takes in his latest project. The nether portal is finished, and tomorrow he will start looking for netherite, will start preparing in earnest. There still much to do, and this is only the first step.

Right now, though, his vision swims and flickers dangerously, and he rubs at them in vain, a bone-deep exhaustion pulling at his core. There's a voice in the back of his head, one that sounds suspiciously like Tommy, that says he can't help anyone if he doesn't help himself first.

( _He ignores the other voice, the one that sounds like Dream and Schlatt and Techno. Weak, it hisses. Useless, pushover, don't have the guts to take a stand-_ )

Tubbo shakes his head, closes his eyes, takes a few deep breathes, and does his best to banish those thoughts before he gets up. There was no time to get proper furniture for the house, so instead he drags himself upstairs and curls up on the pallet of blankets, furs, and pillows he had managed to cobble together. 

Sleep does not come easily, however, despite the weariness he can feel pervading every inch of his body. His mind is still restless, as it has been for months, and not nearly so merciful. It roils and whispers and frets anxiously, about Tommy, about L'Manburg and the future and how its _your fault, your fault, all your fault-_

He screws his eyes shut, and presses his face into the blanket, ignoring how the cold is cozying itself up next to his side. It is not entirely from the freeze outside the door. Snowchester was built for two, after all.

Almost unwittingly, his fingers make his way into his pocket, and he pulls out the remnant he couldn't bear to throw away, not again. It is a compass, charred black and utterly useless, dented and cracked out of its shape, needle bent and spinning uselessly. It's not Tubbo's - no, that was lost ages ago, to his own carelessness. 

It's Tommy's.

It must have gotten knocked loose in the chaos of Doomsday, and Tubbo thinks it is both a miracle and cruel irony that it came into his possession. He could scarcely believe what he was looking at when he pulled it from the rubble-

( _The way things froze, the realization, the way he started sobbing and couldn't make himself stop as he clutched it to his chest and his mind ran away from him, screaming about how Tommy cared, he cared, he didn't stop caring, he cared-_ )

If he squints, he can still see the inscription, written in Ghostbur's neat, looping script. _Your Tubbo_.

There are tears, pricking salty and stubborn behind his eyes, and Tubbo doesn't bother to fight them as they fall, running a thumb across the keepsake's shattered surface. He brings it to his lips, gently, and whispers into the cool metal, the loneliness, the silence-

"Don't worry, Tommy. I'm almost there. I'll find you. I'll find you."

\----- 

To Tubbo's surprise and unending frustration, it's the actual tracking down of Tommy that ends up being the hardest part of his little rescue mission. Dream knows how to be elusive when it suits him, and he and Tommy have, by all appearances, vanished into smoke the moment they left the crater. 

( _More than once, Tubbo finds himself longing for a different compass, one long since destroyed, if only so he can have proof that Tommy is alive, that's he's okay- except no, he lost that right, lost it the moment he forsook their friendship so foolishly, so carelessly. This is his penance_.)

However, these lands are like a spider's web - something is always tied to something else, and nothing stays hidden for long, as long as one knows which strings to pull.

So Tubbo starts asking around, looks for anyone who might have had even a guess at Dream's motivations. Some of them refuse to answer, either apathetic or cruel, unable or unwilling to put an end the devastation wracking his mind, that Tommy must be feeling as well-

( _And it makes Tubbo want to pull his own hair out, to scream and shout and cry and rage, because how can they be so cold, so indifferent, haven't they punished the two of them enough-_ )

But eventually, enough interrogation and persistence leads him to Eret, who tells him that Dream and Punz had a project they were being very secretive about, and for half a stack of diamonds Punz tells him about a prison, a vault, built by Sam and made to be impenetrable in every sense, so that anybody who steps inside does not step out. 

The very concept makes Tubbo's stomach turn, and it comes very close to being nausea when he follows the directions marked out on his map and sees it for himself- black and foreboding and terrifying in its sheer presence, and the thought of Tommy being _inside there_ , trapped within that behemoth of obsidian and iron bars, cut off from any sunlight or human interaction, alone and vulnerable and completely at Dream's mercy- Tubbo has to banish the image before he makes himself sick.

He swallows hard, and does his best to summon back that ball of courage, that pool of determination in his gut, as he straightens his shoulders and fixes the structure with a new, narrowed gaze.

Tommy is in there, and he's counting on someone, on _Tubbo_ , to come for him, to not leave him alone, to have his back in the same way he's had everybody else's in the past. Tubbo promised he would be that person, he swore it with tear-stained words among the shattered of his heart, and he will see it through, will not stop until he can look Tommy in the eyes and say, _Told you I would find you._

He will find a way to get Tommy back, will make his way into that prison - even if he has to tear it apart block by block.

\-----

Sam sighs as he leans over the table, fixing the child before him with an unreadable stare. "So," he says at long last, sounding unbearably tired. "Let's go over the plan again."

Tubbo nods, fighting back a yawn and tapping his fingers on his leg to release the nervous energy. "Yeah. Let's."

Sam stares for a moment more, before turning his gaze to the blueprints of the Vault spread out before them. "Tommy will most likely be the main vault. There are a few features I've made that Dream doesn't know about, the most useful one being this-" He taps a thin set of white lines. "Underwater tunnel. It will put you out just before the cell entrance. It's small, and hard to navigate, so it would be for the best if you went in alone and then used it as an escape route. I'll give you all the necessary keycards beforehand."

Tubbo nods, doing his best to study the layout and commit it to memory. 

( _He ignores the twisting sense of betrayal in his stomach when he looks at Sam, no matter how unfair it might be. Sam didn't know who the prisoner was going to be, much less that it would be Tommy - he seemed genuinely horrified when Tubbo confronted him - but it still stings, ugly and painful, because Sam had been nice, kind, had indulged their antics no matter how ludicrous, and he still chose power over them. Just like everybody else_.)

He looks up and around at the other faces at the table- where Puffy shifts anxiously, where Eret sets their jaw, and Sapnap grips his sword tighter. Eret had told him they wanted to redeem themselves for the Final Control Room, Puffy had approached him when she learned what happened, claiming that it was cruel and unfair, and Sapnap- _something_ Tommy said before Doomsday must have really gotten through to him, because he barely needed any convincing when Tubbo came to him, asking for help.

Tubbo doesn't quite know what to make of it just yet, because these past few weeks have been so muddled by exhaustion, stress, and the all-consuming need of _find Tommy, find Tommy, find Tommy_ that he hasn't had the time or energy to process much else. 

He takes a breath, and tries to reassert himself back into the moment as he looks at Sam. "You, Puffy, Eret, and Sapnap will position yourselves by the Guard Spawn and take care of that, right?"

Sam nods. "Right. We'll hold them hold off while you and Tommy escape and regroup at Snowchester." Then he hesitates, and when looks at Tubbo again there is something almost like concern in his eyes.

"This will not be an easy task. There's still a high probability of things going wrong- you could even lose your last life. Are you sure you want to do this?"

At that, Tubbo has to look away, because no, he isn't sure, he isn't sure what's going to happen, what state they're going to find Tommy in, if the five of them are going to be enough-

( _Hell, he **knows** they aren't going to be enough. He would have preferred an army to storm the Vault with - but he had seen the way people had hissed insults and accusations at Tommy, the way they made him their scapegoat, seen the poisonous flash in their eyes, and he can't risk extending his trust beyond this unsteady circle, not with something so precarious, so precious._)

"Yes," he bites out, and the vitriol in his voice actually startles Sam into taking a step back. Tubbo feels guilty, but he is also feeling tired and pissed off and so, so bereft that he can't bear to feel it for another minute more, that rage is a more appealing outlet than this quiet, horrible torment. The floodgates have been opened, and they will not be closed. "Yes, I am sure, because I tried to not risk it all before, and look where it got me. Because I have nothing left to lose, and Tommy is _literally_ all that matters to me right now, and I. Do. Not. _Care_. If you think it's impossible or not, because there is nothing you can say to me that will change my mind!"

He breathes heavily and hangs his head, feeling like ship being battered and tossed in a storm, as the rest of the room recovers from the outburst. Tubbo can see Puffy frowning out of the corner of his eye, reaching a hand out to put on his shoulder, and he really can not deal with that right now, so instead he storms to the door with an ashamed flush in his cheeks, before turning back to the others.

"I'm sorry about that," he says with a smile that feels horribly fake and horribly fragile. "It's just been a very eventful night, and we have a big day ahead of us, so I'm going to get some rest while I still can. Goodnight."

With that, he rushes out before anyone can say anything, and runs. First an agitated walk, then a jog, then a sprint, turning corner after corner and not caring where it takes him, desperate to get away, get away, _get away_.

Tubbo is not stupid. He sees the pitying looks the others send him, the poor ex-president, so broken and hopeless that he thinks he can take on a god when he is no more than a boy.

Tubbo is not like the heroes of old. He is not a brave or cunning warrior that cuts down his enemies effortlessly. He does not have skin of metal, or godly skill, or a name that would make titans tremble. He is not a general or conqueror or a god or a mastermind. He is not much of anything, really.

But what he does have is a cold, cold fire that burns steely and strong in his bones, a wicked cleverness about him, and a thread, a lead, a beacon that pulls him inevitably towards his other half, the one that has been stolen from him too many times.

And by the gods, he will chase that thread, will pursue it as relentlessly as a hound closes in on its quarry, he will run and run until his legs give out and even then, he will drag himself until he reaches the end.

He will find Tommy. He will drag him from whatever hell Dream's thrown him into, and they will walk out of the labyrinth and into the dawn, blinding and triumphant. They _will_. Tubbo swore it, and he won't go back on his word. Not again.

When he comes back to himself, he is leaning against a wall in the deeper reaches of Sam's, dangerously close to hyperventilating, and Tubbo fights to breathe in for one-two-three-four, hold, breathe out for one-two-three-four, the same way Tommy showed him during Pogtopia when Tubbo would wake up screaming, unable to rid himself of the sensation of fireworks, burning, burning, _burning_ through him.

( _Thinking about that now makes his chest constrict for an entirely unrelated reason. Oh, **Tommy.**_ )

Once again, he finds himself reaching into his pocket, fingers curling around the compass like it's a lifeline ( _maybe it is_ ). It is something that he's done quite a lot these past few days: as a reminder, a motivation, a light in the dark to keep himself going.

_Just hold on, Tommy. I'm coming._

_\-----_

Tubbo stares down into the darkness of tunnel, takes a breath, and steels himself. The words that Wilbur spoke, months and months ago, drift back to him, unbidden.

_This is where we take it all back. Either that, or we get nothing._

( _The monster is away, the labyrinth is open, the battlefield is calm and parted like the sea. All there is left to do is follow the thread to its center, to the one that holds the other end_.)

Dream was reported leaving a few hours ago, but there's no telling when he'll return. Puffy, Eret, Sam, and Sapnap have already taken up their positions, braced for the storm that will drop on their heads. All they are waiting for is for Tubbo to trip the alarm.

He takes another deep breath, and drops down into the darkness.

Sam wasn't kidding when he said was a tight fit- there's barely enough room for Tubbo to face forwards, and he can only see by the dim glow of his enchantments.

Still, though. He won't turn back.

He trudges forward, ignoring the drops of seawater on his armor, and it's a few more minutes of uncomfortable shuffling before he finds himself at a small, winding staircase. At the top is lever, and when Tubbo pulls it a section of floor slices away and opens up into wide hallways.

The prison is not much more welcoming than the tunnel, and looks just as terrifying as it did on the outside. Tubbo swallows, and hoists himself up, looking around cautiously, half-expecting a white mask to jump out at him from the shadows any moment. He can feel his heart pounding obnoxiously loud in his chest, the way dread and anticipation choke themselves in his throat. 

The main cell is not terribly hard to find, and Tubbo's breath catches in his throat as he fumbles for Sam's keycards with shaking hands. 

( _He thinks of Tommy's eyes in the community house, how grey and dead they were. He thinks of the broken fear on his face as Dream dragged him away. He thinks of **do you know what he did to me** and **you're too fun** and **just to hear you scream** and all of their ugly, horrific implications._

 _He thinks of it, and he prays it doesn't await him behind this door._ )

The key slots in, the door flings open, and-

And-

And there he is.

Tommy is curled up in the corner, small and wretched-looking. His head is on his knees, and he almost looks as though he had been sleeping. The moment the cell opens, though, his head snaps up, he presses himself further into the wall, and there is something sharp and panicked on his face, a visceral terror and dread that makes Tubbo's heart _ache_ as he watches it slide like shattered glass from fear, to shock, and slowly, oh-so-slowly into fragile, disbelieving hope.

"Are you real?" He whispers, and Tubbo can't take this anymore as his heart fills over and _bursts,_ as he strides across the cell and Tommy rises on shaking legs to meet him, and when they crash together he's trembling like a leaf but it's okay because so is Tubbo, and they sink to their knees like that, tears streaming and hands grasping for any available space and latching on for dear life - for the loneliness, for the heartbreak, for the terror.

"You came, you came, _you came-_ " Tommy gasps into his neck and Tubbo presses his face into sunshine blonde hair and breathes, trembles, and _breathes_ again for the first time in ages.

"Of course I came," he sobs, rough and jagged, like he's been shattered and put back together over and over. "I told you I would come, _I told yo_ _u,_ gods, I'm not going to let you be alone ever again-"

"You did tell me," Tommy sniffles, somehow managing to come ever closer. "Fuck, you did tell me. I believed you. I believed you."

Tubbo would be happy to spend an eternity in this moment, something lost and found and lost and found again, telling Tommy how he loves him, he loves him _so much,_ he loves his bravery and his loyalty and he's so, so sorry for ever letting any of that go-

But they can't. That is for later. There will be time for tears and mending and rejoicing _later_. Right now, they need to _go._

He wipes his eyes, and pulls away gently, ignoring Tommy's wounded noise and the stab it makes in his soul, and steps into the role of the leader, the soldier, the one that has become like a second skin to him. 

"Tommy," he says, all business, and Tommy snaps to attention, because he is a soldier too. "We need to get out of here."

There is something fearful and hesitant in Tommy's eyes, even as he nods and rises to his feet. He glances, as if the walls could hear them. "But- Dream- w-what about Dream-"

"Dream is being taken care of." Tubbo says, shaking the other slightly. "There are others that will cover our backs as when run. Right now, we need to _escape._ "

Tommy's jaw snaps shut at that, and he nods again, more decisively this. Tubbo is relieved and more than a little disturbed by it, because Tommy never used to agree this quickly before; there was always at least a spark of defiance in those eyes, a stubborn rebellion that is so intrinsic him that Tommy wouldn't be _Tommy_ with it. Tubbo doesn't know where it's gone ( _it's something he has tried and failed not to think about_ ).

The second they step past the door, alarms start blaring all around them as the shattering of Ender pearls and shuffling of pistons signal the Guard Spawn. Tommy jumps like a frightened animal, eyes wide, but Tubbo just grabs his wrist and pulls him firmly towards the tunnel, ripping a speed potion from his belt and throwing it at their feet.

" _Go!_ " He shouts, and they are silent as they drop down the staircase and sprint down the corridor, the only noise being footsteps on dirt and harsh, rushed breathing as the sounds of shouts and fighting begin to filter in from aboveground. 

They pop out on the beach, and Tubbo wastes no time before rushing to where he stashed two tridents for this exact purpose. He hands one to Tommy, makes a _follow me_ gesture, and together they shoot into the sky, running on a mix of adrenaline and terror but free, free, _free_ as they leave that _fucking_ prison behind on the horizon.

\-----

An hour or two later, the sun is setting as they touch down at Snowchester. Tubbo watches Tommy look around curiously, and he doesn't miss the way his expression goes soft with no shortage of longing as he lays eyes on the cottage, warm and inviting.

They walk in, and Tommy sits down with numb, mechanical movements on the blanket pile, something far away in his gaze. Tubbo bustles about, frazzled and desperate to release the nervous, frenetic energy still trapped inside as he takes off his armor, prepares and lights the fire, spoons two bowls of a quick and steamy broth. Tommy takes it all in with a blank, distant expression.

Tubbo settles down next to Tommy, sets the broth on the floor, and says nothing. He's not really sure what he _can_ say, really. Both of them have been ripped open and left raw from both today and all the days leading up to today; they are beyond words, right now. All they really need is just the quiet, steady reassurance of each other's presence, the one that says _I'm here, I'm with you, I'm not gone, I'm right here._

Slowly, hesitantly, like reaching out to a cornered animal, Tubbo brings his hand up, intending to wipe away some dried blood from a cut on Tommy's cheek ( _his blood boils at the thought of who caused it_ ) and Tommy-

Tommy _breaks._

Not as violently or as suddenly he did before, but the second Tubbo's knuckles touch his skin he makes a strangled, keening sound as his own hand snaps up to grab Tubbo's wrist. Not to swat away, or restrict, but just keep there, warm and constant.

Tubbo huffs a laugh, and he breaks a little bit too, like a snowflake being swept away in the gale. "And you call me the clingy one," He chokes out, before they're colliding together again, more gently but no less needed, with Tommy splaying out across Tubbo's lap and Tubbo curls around him like a vine on a tree.

( _This is not where it ends, Tubbo knows. There is still much to talk about; about what happened to Tommy in that prison and in all the months before it, about what Dream did, about all the things they said and thought and felt about each other- air that needs to be cleared and gaps to be bridged._ )

But for now... they cling to each other like a drowning man finding his life raft, snow falls peaceful and undisturbed outside their window, and they simply _exist,_ together and in each other's space, with no pressures or weights or expectations upon them, a comfort that they hadn't been allowed in what feels like lifetimes.

For now... this is enough.


End file.
